Faire Skye
by MissAnnThropic
Summary: An encounter with a powerful supernatural being gives Dean a second chance at happiness. Set in the Skyeverse.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Faire Skye

Author: MissAnnThropic

Spoilers: set in the Skyeverse (surrounding my fic "Wild by Skye")

LiveJournal: miss_annthropic(dot)livejournal(dot)com

Summary: An encounter with a powerful supernatural being gives Dean a second chance at happiness. Set in the Skyeverse.

Timeline: See the last chapter of "Wild by Skye" for a chronological listing of Skyeverse fics to know where exactly this falls in the timeline. Or, you know, just read the fic and figure it out! Or eat pie. I know which one Dean would vote for.

Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I'm just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching DVDs of her favorite shows :(

Author's Note: I haven't given up on Memory of Skye, you guys. The Muse is just NOT playing nice on that one at the moment. It's not even the big hurdles that have me mired… it's the little potholes holding me up *frustrated grumble*

Also, Beloved-Stranger deserves some major props for getting this fic going; it had been an idea in the back of my mind for a while now, but my annoyance with Memory of Skye was binding me from writing in the Skyeverse until Stranger jumped in my sandbox by writing her own Skyeverse fic, "Red Skye in the Morning". Seeing _something_ happening in the Skyeverse gave my Muse a deserved kick in the ass and made her get off the couch and write! So, thanks, Stranger!

* * *

I like to think I'm a pretty easy fairy to get along with. Some of my family are intolerably impish, wrecking all manner of havoc at every opportunity; they and their ilk make trouble and give the rest of us a bad name. But me? I'm a real laid-back fairy. I live and let live.

So it really miffs me to find myself fleeing through the woods in fear for my life from the troll on my trail. I don't know what I could have done to him to piss him off, but with trolls there doesn't necessarily have to be a reason. Trolls are just foul-tempered like that.

There isn't much fairies fear on a day to day basis. Wildlife… pft, _please_. Not even a rabid coyote with one foot in a trap, starved for three days, and protecting a litter of pups can make us bat an eye. Our magic is defense enough against all things natural.

It's the supernatural that twists us by the fine hairs. Trolls are the worst. Our magic, theirs and ours, cancel each other out. My mother told me a story once about fairies and trolls once upon a time being from the same family… I don't know about that, except that it must have been one butt-ugly branch of the family tree and no wonder we cut it off. At any rate, we can toss fairy dust at them all we want – all it might do is make them sneeze. Which pisses them off. Just about everything pisses off a troll. So I obviously let loose a squeaky fart upwind of this asshole troll or _something_, because now he's out for my mini little cheeks and with my magic useless, it's down to physical strength.

I am _not_ happy about those odds.

It feels like this chase has been going on forever. I'm far from home, no doubt my family has given me up for troll chow, and if something doesn't break my way real soon I'm going to get an up-close look at the inside of a troll.

And I'd really rather not.

I'm flying my little ass off, my wings are tiny little blurs I'm flapping so fast, and I'm getting desperate for any kind of saving grace.

That's when I see something up ahead. Big, bumbling through the forest with absolutely no grace or belongingness…

Man.

I'm not proud of my next thought, but I _did_ mention I've been running for my life since about the beginning of time? At least it feels that long, and I see a golden opportunity here. Trolls like man meat. The lumbering two-leggers have so much folklore about the wickedness of trolls for a reason. Trolls think they make tasty snacks.

And if I can get the troll to turn its attention to the man and not me, well… there are plenty of men in the world, but only one of my perfectly perky little self. Really, no contest. Besides, this is nature's domain and men abdicated their place in it eons ago, so he shouldn't even be out here so far from his artificial habitat. Not my fault this guy's an idiot.

My plan gives me new strength, and I flap my little heart out to gain some distance. The troll snarls angrily as I inch away, but he does not stop.

When I'm racing in at blinding speed, too fast for the puny human to even see, I realize the dude is a fucking tree! I've danced around oaks shorter than this guy. Broad as hell, too. If the troll isn't full after eating him, he must have a tapeworm.

I feel bad about this, only for a second, as I find a gap in the zipper of his backpack and dive in. The dark cavern inside is stuffy and full of unexpected surfaces, but I don't have much time to study. I peek through the small opening I'd used for my escape to watch the carnage.

The instant the troll breaks through the foliage in front of the poor bastard of a human, the man drops the bag. I land with it in a heap on the ground, and even with my fairy ninja-like reflexes, I wasn't expecting THAT. This guy is fast.

And he has a weapon… where he got it, I don't know, I don't remember seeing it, but he's not screaming and I definitely don't smell the expected scent of freshly loosed urine. Fast _and_ not a pussy.

I feel a little worse about feeding him to the troll.

The troll seems taken aback by the man's confidence and lack of terror, too. Survival instinct kicks in, even in a mutton-head like a troll, and I understand what we're facing about the same split-second the troll does.

Not merely _man_.

_Hunter_.

_Fuck me_… this is bad news for both of us, and I can't help but wonder if I've traded one way to die for another. Hunters live for just one thing, killing everything outside the realm of natural. I'm about as far from natural as you can get.

The hunter is poised to fire his weapon… before, when I thought he was just an idiotic human, I scoffed at the idea he might have anything of use to fend off a troll. But now that I know he's a hunter, I expect that's not regular ammo he's packing.

The troll pauses for a second, contemplates, then moves to lunge.

At the same instant, something _else_ lunges at the troll!

Scaly grey/green skin and grey fur tangle on the forest floor in a ball of unearthly yowling and hearty growls, and before I know what's going on, the hunter has moved, throwing something fine and powdery into the fray.

The troll lets out a piteous wail and falls away from the furry attacker, jerking spastically, trying to escape the dust that seems to burn everywhere it touches the troll.

The ball of fur jumps back, and it's a _wolf_.

This has got to be the weirdest day of my life. A hunter in the forest with a wolf for a partner. What the _fairy god-fuck_…

The hunter repositions his grip on the weapon, aims, fires… and the troll just _explodes_. Not seizes and dies, not twitches and stills… that gnarly prick _pops_ and goo shoots straight up and comes down on the ground with a splat.

Right afterward, I am so shocked that the hunter's voice startles me when he says, "One troll strung out on witch-hazel and terrorizing the village: DEAD."

The wolf, panting and staring at the mess formerly known as troll, turns an amused look up at the hunter.

Then _transforms_.

Suddenly it's two men, one naked and fairly damn glorious (there's nothing sick in appreciating!; human and fairy shapes are basically the same, all right?), and the scale of the naked man in comparison to fairy makes the size difference _scrumptious_. The man who only moments ago was a wolf chuckles, "Dude, did you see that thing blow up?"

Two hunters. And one is a _lycanthrope_.

I was so wrong… my day just got a whole lot weirder.

Big Guy reaches into the backpack and I press against the canvas to stay hidden. Big Guy pulls out some piece of clothing and tosses them to the nude Adonis. "I must have put too much jasmine in the mix."

"Shit, that was awesome! Better than the fourth of July."

"Dean… underwear."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean grumbles and pulls on the shorts Big Guy handed him.

'No, no!' my little heart cries.

"Admit it, Sam," Dean, now clad in black boxer briefs, prods. "That was cool."

Sam breaks. "Okay, it _was_ pretty kick ass."

"Another job well done, so long, you slimy shit," Dean kicks a cloud of dirt at the troll's remains and heads toward Sam. "Let's get back to civilization and cell phone service, because I can't _wait_ to tell Bobby about this!"

My backpack hideaway is lifted into the air and slung over Sam's shoulder.

"No argument from me," Sam answers immediately. "I know you love these forest gigs, but this hiking trip stopped being fun back at that thorny bush."

Dean snorts.

"That troll just kind of burst out of nowhere," Sam thinks aloud, "what do you think it could have been after?"

"Who knows," Dean replies, "but I'm sure whatever it was after didn't deserve to end up as _that_ thing's dinner."

You know… I think maybe I a little bit adore these hunters.

* * *

If I were more like my cousins, I would have cut and run from my saviors at the first opportunity. But me… well, I felt I owed a debt of gratitude to these hunters. They saved my life, albeit unknowingly, and I like to repay my debts.

For repayment of the act of saving a fairy's life, the scope and breadth of our magic is pretty much limitless. I am going to grant them a wish. It seems a fitting gesture of my gratitude.

Of course, I'm not stupid enough to reveal myself to them and _ask_ what they want in return for saving my life. They're _hunters_, and I don't really care to find out if they have any dust that can make a fairy explode. Knowing hunters, they'd try before I had a chance to explain myself.

But I still want to reward them, so I figure I'll hang around, tag along, and listen and wait. Sooner or later, they will have to say something that will give me a clue to their hearts' desires. Sparkle, sparkle, fairy dust, _boom_, wish granted and I can go home guilt free. Win win.

I'll just hide away in Sam's backpack and listen for one of them to slip a longed-for desire… it can't take that long.

* * *

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2

I have never smelled fouler socks in all my centuries.

This little 'return of kindness' mission is going to be the unfairytale death of me. I've been hitchhiking with these boys for over a week, and _nothing_. I know just about everything else about them, including the time of their daily bowel movements and the unique odor of Sam's feet after a long day in old shoes, but squat about their hopes and dreams.

The other things I _do_ know about them: They're brothers, for one. Dean's older, as cocksure and headstrong as they come. He's unbelievably gorgeous, too. And you know what, I think if you brought him down to size and slapped a pair of wings on him, he'd be one seriously badass fairy. Sam's far too serious to be fairykind. He might make a good gnome, though.

Their last name is Winchester, and they're hunters. Dean, of course, is a lycan. For hunters, they're amazingly okay with that, and Sam is shockingly accepting given that he is just a plain toast human.

They have no home, unless you count that deep-throated black and silver beast of a car. They live on the road, stopping infrequently for food and sleep and even _less_ frequently to do laundry.

There's a lot of love between these two, but not exactly mere sibling affection. Their roles are all jumbled up, and I just sort of sit around trying to sort out just what kind of family they are. Dean is brother-mother-father while Sam is brother-son, and I can't imagine where anyone else could ever squeeze into this tangle of identities. They've got a whole damn family between just the two of them.

There's a lot behind their eyes and under their skin, too. Anger, grief, a sense of duty, weariness, relentlessness, love, need. It's not that I'm so fantastic at reading humans (in fact, I'm pretty terrible at it)… with these two, spend a few days watching them, and it's just _there_.

A whole shitload of things I might pick as my wish-gift to them if they would just fucking say it! For as much as their bodies and souls speak, they seem to have some kind of allergy to deep, meaningful conversations. Not a peek at a heart's wish or desire in more than a damn week! I'm starting to worry I'll never scrub the smell of Sam's soggy socks out of my hair!

Someone better sigh an absently-spoken wish soon or I'm just going to take a guess and make Dean four inches taller, or give their duffels the power to clean clothes, or give Sam the ability to shoot lasers out of his eyes… _something_!

* * *

Sam's standing on the rundown porch of the cabin in the middle of the woods, looking up at the sky as the sun sets. His backpack, with me inside, is crumpled on the floor against the cabin's outer wall. The cabin is some place one of their dad's old buddies loans out to hunters passing through whenever they need a place to sleep. I'm trying to find a comfortable place to sit without a dagger stabbing me in the ass where I can still peek through the gap in the zipper.

Dean is pacing the yard before the cabin restlessly. He's been like this all day. From the week and a half I've spent watching him, I know Dean is not an idle person, but this degree of restiveness is on an all new level.

I know why… it's the night when Luna calls to him. He must turn in abeyance to the full moon.

I can feel his change coming. Sam can't (the poor, pithy human), but I can. I can sense the supernatural waiting to burst through the natural. Only to end up even more natural than Dean was at the start.

Sam and Dean are so calm about this, so routine, and I love them a little for it. They are talking casually about odds and ends of life, just whiling away the time until Dean can't help becoming wolf.

Dean likes the build-up, I can tell. He could have turned at any time (from my time with these boys, I know he's not shy about it), but he lets the moon tease him to the edge of tolerance. My skin just tingles at the thought that, for Dean, this is like foreplay. That is just delicious. It's beautiful to watch, too. He's already naked, wondrously so, and bless these brothers for getting past the nudity taboo of their race and culture. Because I am here to tell you, naked Dean Winchester is a sight that should be seen and appreciated. Dean's skin is flushed with the impending change. His eyes are sparkling… sometimes hazel green, sometimes gold. I can hear his heartbeat, thumping deep and steady at times, at others racing wildly. His breathes come ever so slightly faster and faster, panting through parted lips.

To tell you the truth, at that moment I forget all about the dirty socks.

"Looks like a beautiful night," Sam observes of falling twilight.

Beautiful _something_, all right!

"Yeah," Dean breathes, and I shiver at the sound of his voice. He is so ready to be more than human. But he prolongs the torment, stays with his brother a little longer. It's still tantalizing for him… he hasn't crossed the line into actual pain for fighting it… yet.

"Nights like this," Sam muses idly, "almost make me wish I could go with you."

_Aha_! Finally, yes! Watch me roll up my fairy sleeves and get to work!

"We've talked about this," Dean chides immediately, gently but yet there's an authoritative sharpness to his voice that catches my attention. I don't think I'm going to like this.

"I said _almost_… you know I'm just thinking out loud. I don't _actually_ want to be a lycan any more than you want me to be one."

Damnit! So close!

Sam moves closer to the porch steps and sits down. "Just that the pack in Eclipse River made such a big deal about running together…" He looks closely at his brother. "What was it like running with Skye?"

All of Dean's energy, for a second, turns to ache. I flutter my wings in surprise, because you ought to warn a fairy about that kind of turnaround. Dean is right there with his brother, which has always been more than enough as far as I've seen, but in that moment Dean looks _lonely_.

Dean keeps his eyes on the ground at first, unnervingly still, then he answers softly, "Incredible."

There was love lost too soon there… heartache never fully healed.

Sam smiles kindly.

Dean shudders and folds, bending at the waist as if cradling a stomach ache. He lowers himself to the forest floor in a crouch, propping both hands a finger's length above the ground.

Sam watches, just as mesmerized as I, as Dean gives in to the change. He transforms from man to wolf with such grace and ease. So much beauty, both before and after. When the wolf looks up at Sam, eyes gold to match the amulet around his neck, Sam chuckles. "Don't drag any dead squirrels back into the cabin."

Dean narrows his eyes, then whirls about with a flick of his tail and bounds into the woods.

Sam rises from his place on the steps, picks up Dean's scattered clothing off the porch, and turns back to the cabin. The backpack is hoisted into the air, me the swaying passenger, and Sam and I go back inside. Sam throws the backpack down on the kitchen table a little roughly (but since he doesn't know I'm in it, I'll forgive him that), and I crane through the zipper hole to watch Sam sort through Dean's discarded clothes. I hope there's at least a wash bin in this cabin and the boys might avail themselves of it.

Sam empties Dean's pockets (so he must mean to wash them, right?), and when he fishes Dean's wallet from the rumpled pair of jeans, Sam pauses. I watch.

Sam opens it and pulls out a photograph, the edges soft with wear. I can't see what he sees from where I am, but I'm listening closely.

Sam smiles sadly down at the picture. All selflessly, Sam murmurs, "I wish he hadn't lost you."

_Oooo_! Dare I hope? Is this going to be another tease wish that he takes back? I may fairy dust his balls off if it is, but it definitely _sounds_ sincere.

Sam sighs, sets the photo down on the table, and turns to head toward the bathroom. The eight o'clock movement.

I dart out of my hiding place the second his back is turned and race to look at the picture. It's taller than I am, even at wallet-sized, so I stand at the bottom of it and look down at the picture like a fine-woven rug laid before me. It's a picture of Dean with his arm around a woman. And granted, I've only been around these boys just shy of two weeks, but Dean looks happier with the woman than I've ever seen him.

This must be Skye. The love Dean had, the love Dean lost. The woman Sam wishes had not been lost, for Dean's sake.

Slap me pink and call me a pixie… _this_ is a wish! A real, actual wish that will repay my debt to these boys! I'll have to call in some favors with some of the other supernatural entities I know in order to sort out the details, but like I said… I'm a friendly fairy. I have people. I can make this happen for the Winchesters.

I'm so excited, I'm sprinkling glittery fairy dust all over the place, but I can't help it. I'll return a kindness to the Winchesters, and then I get to go home!

I will miss these boys.

I _won't_ miss the stink of unwashed socks.

* * *

To Be Continued…


	3. Chapter 3

"Sam… Sam!"

Sam Winchester stopped abruptly in his tracks and turned at the familiar voice, scanning the campus of Stanford University only a second before he spotted the blonde jogging toward him. On reflex upon sight of her, he grinned.

Jessica Moore, backpack bouncing on her shoulder, smiled brightly back at him. As she hurried toward him, her hair jiggled loose from her ponytail, but it made Jess look no less perfect for the imperfection.

Sometimes just looking at her reminded Sam, in a heartbeat, all the reasons he loved her.

Jessica reached him and practically hopped to a stop, looping her arm through his and giving him a squeeze. "I thought I'd miss you."

Sam ducked down to give her a quick kiss before answering. "Your last class _is_ across campus." He hadn't thought to be looking for her. Sam reached up and tucked one loose strand of Jess's hair behind her ear.

"We got a walk," Jessica said and turned to start walking, tugging Sam along after her with the arm she still had conveniently hooked around his elbow. "If I had been _really_ studious, I would have gone to the student center and got in some studying for my final on Monday, _but_…" she slid a mischievous look over at him, "I couldn't wait to hear how you did on your last final. Have I mentioned how jealous I am about that, by the way?"

Sam chuckled, "Yeah, only a few dozen times."

Jess pouted. "Well, it's not fair. Our professor has to present a paper at Harvard, like _that's_ a big deal, and for that we have to take our final on _Monday_, when everyone else in the entire university is already free for the semester." Jess turned intently upon him, "You just aced your ethics final, surely there must be some law against that kind of thing, right?"

"Actually, I didn't tell you how I think I did yet," Sam pointed out with a smile.

Jess rolled her eyes. "Please, highest grade in the class, I'll bet."

Sam ducked his head. "I don't know about _that_." But Sam truly adored how Jessica believed in him so unfailingly.

Jess was shaking her head, all business. "Nope… absolute curve-blower. If I took classes with you, I'd hate you. You know," she turned a megawatt smile up at him, "if I didn't love you so much."

Sam kissed her again just because.

"So," Jessica began after they had walked a few minutes in companionable silence, "Becky and some others were going to throw an end-of-semester party tonight… you want to go?"

"Depends… did you already tell her we'd be there?"

Jessica shrugged guiltily. "_Maybe_… come on, it'll be fun."

If it was Becky and their lot, it would be… at least the kind of party Sam found fun. If Dean were there, he would call it lame. Entirely too little drinking and too few potentially felonious activities for the older Winchester boy, but that was just the way Sam liked it.

"We can't stay too late," Sam agreed with caveat, "because I won't see you tank your final for a party."

"Killjoy," Jess said lowly but teasingly. She looked happily at him. "What would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn," Sam answered airily.

She swatted him playfully on the arm.

They found Jessica's car and drove to their apartment building. They had moved in together at the beginning of the semester. Sam had been a little worried at first. He had never lived with a woman. Not that he could remember, anyway… his first six months barely counted. When Jessica asked him to live together with her (_she'd_ asked _him_, claiming if she waited on him he would gentlemanly them into not living at the same address until they were engaged), Sam was concerned a lifetime of living with his father and brother had ill-prepared him for cohabitating with a woman.

But it had been fine. Better than fine. In fact, Sam loved every second of it. Even when Jessica was down with the flu and he was holding her hair back while she threw up, it was good. It was so much better than the life he'd left. He would rather rub Jess's back while she heaved than do a home stitch-job on a loved one any day of the week.

And Jessica was amazing. If there were any weirdly Winchester habits he had, she didn't hassle him about them. She laughed and accused him of being raised by wolves. Sam agreed it wasn't so far off.

It was comfortable and safe. Everything Sam had been looking for when he left the hunt.

When they got to their apartment, they did blissfully _normal_ things. Sam looked through the cupboards to see what he could make them for a late lunch (Becky usually had pizza galore at her parties). Jess gathered up their dirty laundry for their Saturday sojourn to the laundromat. Over bowls of rice and chicken, they watched television on the couch together. Argued over what program to watch. Sam wanted to watch Planet of the Apes; Jess wanted to watch a documentary on haunted houses in Britain. Sam won when he grabbed the remote and held it far out of Jess's reach, grateful for the advantage of reach he had on her. The fight was mock at best, but Sam was all too eager to turn off her show.

Around three, they started to get ready for the party.

"Sam… have you seen my green earrings?" Jess called from the bathroom.

Sam, sitting on the bed tying his shoes, called back, "Did you check the little dish with your watch?"

"Yes, they're not there."

"I don't know, I haven't seen them."

A solid knocking sounded from the door.

Sam looked over his shoulder toward the living room, then toward the bathroom door. "Is anyone supposed to be meeting us here?"

Jess stuck her head out of the bathroom, befuddled expression in place. "I don't think so."

"Probably Rich," Sam said as he stood up to go answer the door.

Jess snorted and ducked back into the bathroom.

Sam, smirking to himself and coming up with the insult he would toss Rich's way, opened the door and his jaw dropped open at who he found standing there instead.

"Heya, Sammy."

Sam just stood, gaping at none other than his older brother on his doorstep.

Finally, he found his tongue. "_Dean_?"

One corner of Dean's mouth ticked upward. "The one and only."

"Wha… what are you doing here?" Sam stammered.

Dean, without waiting for invitation, moved past Sam into the apartment. "I'm looking for a beer." As he passed by Sam, he gave him a slap on the arm, like they had seen each other just yesterday instead of two years ago.

Sam, speechless, turned to stare at his brother who had just waltzed into his world like it was nothing at all. As if they'd agreed that Dean would show up on this day, at this hour.

Dean looked around the place critically. "Not bad… kind of prissy, but then, I sort of expected that of you."

"Dean… seriously, what…"

"What, I can't drop in on my baby brother?"

"Why didn't you call to tell me you were in town?"

Dean scoffed, a little bit of hurt and anger laced underneath the sound. "Come on, like you would have answered the phone if I did."

Sam narrowed his eyes and stepped toward Dean. Surprise was moving aside, and Sam was reminded of all the reasons he'd left… it woke in him defensiveness he thought he'd left behind years ago. "So, what, you just drop in for a visit?"

"Yeah, maybe," Dean countered. Paused. Then said, "Okay, so there's a reason I dropped by."

"I _knew_ it," Sam groaned. "Look, whatever mess you're in, or Dad's in, it has nothing to do with me. I got out of that, and I'm going to stay out. You can't just show up here unannounced and try to drag me back into that life."

Dean's expression darkened briefly, and he opened his mouth to speak.

Only to be beaten to the punch. "Sam… was that Rich?" Jessica came into the living room, dressed and ready, and stopped in her tracks. "Oh!" she said when she saw Dean. "Definitely not Rich."

Sam sighed; he had hoped to send Dean on his way before it came to this, cross-contamination of the life he chose and the life he had escaped.

"Sorry… Jess, this is Dean. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica."

Jessica brightened. "You mean your brother Dean?"

"The older, handsomer brother Dean, yep, that's me. You're Sam's girlfriend? Wow… I gotta tell you, you are _way_ out of Sam's league."

Jess gave him a humoring, lopsided smile, perfectly mixed between amused and not, like a kindergarten teacher who'd seen it all telling a precocious child 'aren't you cute'. "Well, it's great to meet you, Dean. I've heard quite a bit about you."

"Don't believe a word of it, I'm actually all kinds of awesome."

Jessica almost giggled. "Are you in town to see Sam?"

"Yes," Dean said, at the exact same second Sam said, "No."

Sam snagged his brother by the elbow and pulled him toward the door. "He was just leaving, just give us one minute, would you?"

"Sure. I'll call Becky and let her know we might be late."

"Don't, we won't be," Sam promised and pulled Dean out into the hallway.

Once alone, Dean grinned slyly. "_Nice_, Sammy."

"Cut the crap, Dean, what are you doing here?"

Dean began to frown. "Why does it have to be a crisis for me to see my little brother, huh?"

"Is Dad with you?" Sam asked sharply.

Dean's expression darkened instantly. "No, Dad is not with me."

At least Sam wouldn't have to deal with that confrontation. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "All right… I don't know what you thought you came here for, but I don't want any part of it."

"You don't even know what I want yet," Dean countered, his voice low and guarded.

"I don't need to."

Dean looked long and hard at him, disappointment and disapproval thick in his eyes. "Uh huh," he grunted flatly, and then he turned and started to walk away.

Sam should have just let him go, but the parting look on his brother's face wasn't the way Sam wanted it to end. Besides… he had more to say.

He caught up to Dean near the stairwell. "I swore I was done hunting, and I meant it."

Without looking at him, without breaking stride, Dean returned, "You know, I don't get what was so horrible about our childhood that you had to run away."

"I know _you_ don't, but come on, man! And I didn't _run away_, I went to college!"

Dean paused on the last step of the stairwell to cast a withering glance at his brother. "So you don't think the thing that killed Mom should have to pay? You want to rage at something for stealing normal from our family, don't come down on me or Dad. That thing that killed Mom did this to us."

Sam clenched his jaw. "I never said it didn't deserve to die, but my whole life has been all about hunting down that thing, and anything else we could find… you really think this is what Mom would have wanted for us?"

Dean pushed his way through the door, clearly upset. Talking about Mary Winchester always upset Dean; Dean actually remembered their mother. Sam had only stories and pictures.

Sam, still full of things to say, hurried after his big brother.

"I mean, the training, the melting silver into bullets, man, Dean, we were raised like warriors. And now you expect me to go back to that life…"

The two brothers came out into the parking area of the apartment complex, and Sam habitually glanced up to find the Impala. He ground to a halt when he saw it… and a woman leaning against the driver's side. A slim woman about Dean's age with dark hair and an ease about her as she rested her weight against the black classic car, like she felt she belonged there. She looked up when she heard the two of them leave the building and settled her eyes on them.

Sam's heart hammered because he had been talking so loudly in his righteous anger – no doubt she had heard him as he discussed the hunt – and not letting others into the family secret was Winchester law.

Dean stopped to turn and face his brother, fury just beneath the surface. But the fury was completely misplaced (not the tirade of 'don't let slip the secret' that Sam was bracing for) when Dean snapped, "I don't need to hear this again, Sam. This may come as a shock to you, but I know it all by heart. I spent the better part of my life listening to you telling Dad just how wrong and messed up you think our family was. I told you, I'm not here to take you back. In fact, with your attitude, I wouldn't want you hunting with me."

Sam gaped, still thrown by the woman where either Dad or the lone Impala should be. "Who…"

The woman pushed off from the side of the car and moved toward them. She came to a stop beside Dean, stood close by his side, and looked between them in concern. "Dean?"

Dean looked down at her, studied her as he struggled with his anger and frustration, then cast another withering glance at Sam. "Never mind… I thought I could come to you and ask you to be my brother, but I guess I was wrong."

The woman reached up and touched Dean's chest. It was an unspoken question that Dean answered. "Sam's scared shitless I'm trying to bring him back to the hunt."

"_Dean_!" Sam yelped reflexively, shocked and terrified at once that Dean was talking about hunting in front of someone else. He couldn't believe Dean would break the Winchester rule of life so blithely right in front of him.

Dean turned to Sam again and said, "I came here to ask if you would be our witness."

Sam gaped. "Witness… for what?"

"For getting married."

Sam was pretty sure his jaw hit the pavement. He looked agog at his brother, then down at the woman. Then back at Dean. Neither showed any hint of taunt or jest. But Sam knew Dean better than that. Dean didn't date, much less marry. Something more was going on here.

The woman seemed to sense the tension between the two and she said gently to Dean, "I'm going to give you two some time alone." With a last worried look at Sam, she walked away.

Sam sidled in closer to his brother as soon as the spot was vacant, suddenly somber and serious. "What the _hell_… Dean, what kind of scam are you running this time?"

Dean's voice was dangerous. "It's not a scam."

"Right. You want me to believe you are going to get married."

"I am."

Sam just waited for the punchline. Dean lifted his eyebrows haughtily and said nothing.

"Dean! _Come on_. I know you. You don't even stay with the same girl for two nights. You break out into hives when a girl uses the word 'relationship', so what is this? A new way to fleece the credit card companies? Is this for a hunt?"

"For the last time," Dean ground out, "this is not a scam or a sham or a ruse or whatever else you are thinking. I want you to be there when I marry the woman I love." Dean's face looked dark and dangerous. "But I guess that's asking too much, so sorry to bother you in your little normal life."

With that, Dean started to turn to storm off.

Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's arm without thinking. He braced for Dean to turn fighting but was relieved when Dean just froze and shot him a look.

"Dean…" Sam began, then was at a loss for what to say. He still didn't believe it. Couldn't. But on the _wild_ chance this was not a joke or a cover… could Sam really turn his back on that? One of the _very_ few normal things Dean ever did and wanted Sam to be a part of? Better to play it safe, and if nothing else, seeing them together would give Sam a better idea of just what his brother was playing at. Research. Gather information… that part of the hunt came back to Sam in a heartbeat.

"I didn't mean to…"

"Yeah, you never mean to." Dean was angry and defensive, but he was still standing there. He hadn't thrown Sam off and left.

Sam tried to say the right thing, but whatever that might have been caught in his throat and he ended up standing there with his hand around Dean's arm.

"Don't let me keep you," Dean added acidly. He pulled free of Sam's grasp and started toward the car.

"Dean!"

Dean turned with a huff.

Sam swallowed. "Can Jess come, too?"

For a second, Sam thought Dean had hardened his resolve. He just stood there, like a statue. Then he just barely smiled. "Yeah… go get her."

"You… you mean you're going to do it _now_?"

"The Justice of the Peace is waiting… go get your girlfriend and get down here… _if_ you're coming."

Sam just nodded dumbly then turned and hurried back toward the apartment. His mind was reeling. His brother showing up and announcing he was getting married was about the last thing Sam would have expected. He was numb with shock. Shock and churning suspicion. This could not be legit, not given everything he knew about Dean. But for now, Sam had to jump in and hope he could swim.

A hunt he could have turned his back on, but Dean showing up with a fiancé was a mystery that demanded solving.

"Jess!" Sam called when he rushed into the apartment.

She rose from the couch. "Is Dean gone?"

"No… we have to go."

Jess began to frown. "Sam, if your brother's in town, I don't think we should just ditch him and go to Becky's party."

"We're not… I'll explain on the way. Let's go."

She was confused, but she trusted Sam. She grabbed her coat and they were gone.

* * *

Sam felt like he was walking in a dream. They were at the Courthouse for the county of Santa Clara, California. The Justice of the Peace was standing at the back of the room. Dean and his fiancé were side by side facing him. Skye. Her name was Skye. After Sam got back downstairs with Jess, Dean had his arm around Skye and introduced her proudly to them both. Sam knew Dean was being pleasant so as not to make Jess suspicious. Skye was the consummate actress, greeting them both warmly, her hand lightly fisting Dean's shirt at his hip opposite to her. She was good… it was the little details that sold a cover story, after all.

The service was no frills. Everyone was in jeans and t-shirts; it sang to Sam of a marriage just to serve a purpose. Fill a square. But then again, Sam had watched Dean fake a lot of things in their years on the hunt, but he had _never_ seen Dean master such a look of affection and joy as the one he got in his eyes when he looked at Skye.

Maybe… just _maybe_… but this was _Dean Winchester_. Marriage flew in the very face of the name.

They were exchanging rings, slipping the bands of silver around each other's left ring finger. Skye had shown them to Sam in her palm before the ceremony, smiling knowingly as she whispered, "you never know when you might need some silver." Sam just blinked.

She was another hunter… had to be. Sam had come to think that they must be after something that only targeted married couples, and that was what this JP hitch was all about. It would make more sense than Dean falling in love and settling down, but then Dean was holding her hand so tenderly after slipping the ring on her finger.

Sam felt Jess's hand take his, and he glanced down at her. Her eyes were misty with tears and she was smiling. She didn't even know these two, but she was happy for them. She was happy for people in general; she liked to share their joys and commiserated with their sorrows. She was such a good person. Sam squeezed her hand, trying not to let his whirling thoughts or doubts show in his face.

The Justice pronounced Dean Winchester and Skye Lauchlan husband and wife and invited them to kiss… as if maybe even he thought they might not be marrying for love. As if the very aura of Dean Winchester was proof enough that this was a man who did not commit to one woman for any appreciable length of time.

But Dean took Skye in his arms and kissed her so thoroughly that Sam started to blush. Skye wrapped her arms around his neck and dove into his mouth, lingering there as if to stay forever.

When they parted, Dean's hands still on her hips and hers on his shoulders, Dean turned to look at Sam, and there was a lag when the discontent he was supposed to be feeling toward his brother did not immediately claim his face. It was the afterglow of Skye, and Dean looked _joyful_. The only day Sam could remember that came close to bringing Dean that kind of happiness was when Dad gave Dean the Impala for his eighteenth birthday. But even that was paling to this.

To Be Continued….


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I actually lost a bet with SierraPhoenix with the last chapter, although it was a bet I was happy to lose! I bet her I would be inundated with flames for _marrying off Dean_. How dare I break the cardinal rule of SPN fandom and hook one of the Boys up with a woman for more than the length of a single hunt! But there was not a vicious backlash from the readers… I was pleasantly surprised and relieved!

Just a random fyi… the end of the previous chapter, this chapter, and the next chapter are really all part of one freaking huge scene that I just HAD to break up, because it was insanely long. So if anyone's thinking it feels 'chopped up'… well, it was.

* * *

Dean and Skye invited them both out for drinks at a local bar to celebrate, and Jessica accepted at once with glee. She might as well have known these two for years and watched their romance grow from its grass roots for as happy as she was for them.

The bar they ended up at was nicer than most that Sam was used to frequenting with his brother, owing to its being smack dab in the middle of college town. The clientele was more frat boys than bikers. It was mostly clean and didn't play the typical boozing country western music that even Sam agreed was a crime to the senses. It was one of the bars in California that had banned smoking, so it lacked the lung-tickling haze Sam was familiar with, but the pool tables in the back were a familiar fixture from his younger years.

They claimed a booth and Sam, Jess, and Dean ordered drinks while Skye had a soda. Jessica graciously offered to take the duty of designated driver, stating that it was Skye's wedding day and she should get to enjoy it. Sam thought it was very generous of Jessica to offer, but he knew it was pointless. They'd all come together in the Impala, and Dean would never let a practical stranger behind the wheel of his baby. But it gave Sam a lot to think about that obviously he would let Skye drive his precious car.

He also thought it was another indication of something not quite right that Dean's 'wife' would be a teetotaler.

Despite Jess's insistence, Skye would not be persuaded from her decision, all but demanding that Jessica have a drink. When Sam was trying to see Skye as someone Dean might actually _honestly_ love, he could see that tenacity being a quality that a woman who held Dean's attention would have to have.

Sam went back and forth from one minute to the next sure it was a hoax and then almost believing it was all for real. He couldn't wait to get his brother alone. Until then, he had to play along and watch and listen.

Outwardly, it was a wonderful time for the four of them. Dean and Skye were obviously in high spirits and hardly able to keep their hands off each other. Even just sitting side by side, a hand would touch here or there, or Dean would lean in as if to whisper to Skye, but Sam thought it looked like he was just smelling her hair.

When Back in Black began to play, Skye dragged Dean out to the cleared space that doubled as a dance floor, and Sam almost consecrated a glass of water to throw on Dean as he watched his too-cool older brother dance. Or try to. It wasn't pretty (Dean didn't dance in public for good reason), but Dean didn't seem to care. Neither of them did. It was clearly more excuse to touch than dance.

It looked so _genuine_, but Sam could not quiet that voice in the back of his head that told him something was not right.

Jess was having a wonderful time. After the rushed introduction, she took to Skye at once and Dean shortly thereafter. That didn't surprise Sam. She made friends everywhere she went; she was just friendly and approachable. It was one of the things that attracted Sam to her from the beginning. She wasn't disingenuous, as the Winchesters so often were in their line of work.

When Skye and Dean came back to the table, breathless and flushed, Skye challenged Jess to a game of pool. Jessica was game and slipped out of the booth to go with her new friend to the tables in back.

Dean dropped down next to Sam, out of breath and damn near glowing. Sam stared openly at him, not sure what to think anymore. He knew he'd been abnormally quiet all evening, just trying to take it all in and wrap his head around it.

Dean took a deep draw from his beer and settled his eyes on Skye across the room. The two women were racking the balls for a new game.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean's voice was soft, almost an afterthought not really meant for Sam to answer.

"Yeah?" Sam asked warily.

"Thanks for being there today." Dean turned his eyes toward his younger brother, and for the life of him Sam didn't know what to think.

Sam shook his head. "You know what I don't understand?"

"What's that?"

"You look like you mean it."

Dean's elated expression faded a little as he regarded Sam earnestly. "I do."

"Yeah, I think maybe you do… that's what I can't figure out."

"What's there to figure out? That's your problem, college boy." Dean pointed at Sam reproachfully with one finger, the others holding his beer. "You think too much."

Sam watched Skye break and Jess's eyes following the rolling balls across the table.

"Is she a hunter?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean frowned faintly, his gaze never leaving Skye. "Now… but she wasn't when I met her."

"How long have you two been together?"

"About two years."

Sam's eyes widened. If he'd been taking a drink, he would have choked. As if Dean could hear his little brother's shock, he glanced over at Sam wryly. Two years… approximately the same amount of time that had passed since Sam walked out.

"That's a long time," Sam mumbled, "for you."

"Yes, it is," Dean agreed. He settled down further in his seat, smiling lasciviously to himself as he watched Skye bend over to line up a shot. "And you know, before Skye, I didn't get it. The whole 'sticking with one person' thing. Because Baskin Robins has thirty-one flavors for a reason."

That elicited a chortle from the youngest Winchester as Sam looked down at his own drink (which was doing far too little to help this night make sense).

"But…" Dean got lost in thought, or lost for words, then simply shrugged. "Well, now I get it."

Somewhere in hell, the devil's minions were building snowmen.

There were so many questions Sam had, he hardly knew where to start.

"Does Dad know you were going to marry her?"

Apparently that was the wrong question to ask. Dean glowered instantly. "Nope… because I didn't tell him."

That shocked Sam silent at first. He almost thought he had to have misheard. "You showed up on my doorstep after two years without a single phone call to invite _me_, but you didn't invite Dad?"

"That's right." There was stony resolve in Dean's voice that did not belong there when talking about John Winchester. That was Sam's role. Dean didn't go cold and hostile at the mere mention of John.

"Where is Dad?"

Dean shrugged dismissively. "No idea."

Sam looked long and searchingly at Dean, who would not meet his gaze for love or money. "You don't know where Dad is?"

Dean shook his head. "I haven't talked to him in a few weeks."

Sam's eyes widened. "Isn't it _unusual_ for you two to be out of contact that long?"

"Not really," Dean answered frostily. With a sigh, Dean finally looked toward Sam. "Ever since you left, Dad and I haven't exactly seen eye to eye on, well, _anything_, really. We don't hunt together anymore. I talk to him now and then, but we can go a month without talking to each other."

It was like Sam had stepped into an alternate universe. "You and Dad… fighting."

Dean's stolid silence was his answer.

"Because of me?" Sam asked, his voice sounding small and young even to his own ears.

Dean made a noncommittal noise and stared resolutely ahead, his jaw clenched. "Dad didn't like Skye… he told me to break it off with her and send her away. Said I had no business bringing her into our world, our _life_, and made it _damn_ clear he wanted her gone."

When the reality of what Dean was saying sank in, Sam was stunned. "Dad asked you to pick, him or Skye… and you picked Skye."

Dean took a drink and said nothing.

For the first time, Sam believed in it. In Dean in love.

1Sam didn't realize he was staring at Dean until Dean looked oddly at him, frowned, and asked, "What?"

"Nothing, just... I never would have suspected it, that's all."

Dean grunted, and Sam could tell there was a world of hurt and anger behind that. Sam wasn't surprised. Dean always idolized their father, and to break with him so badly – to break with him like Sam had – would be harder for Dean. It said a lot about Skye, Sam figured.

At the thought, Sam looked toward the pool tables and both their girls. Jess was standing back against the wall – apparently Skye was running the table, which did not surprise Sam at all that Dean would hook up with a veritable pool shark – while Skye was concentrating on her next shot. Sam's trained eye skittered to the side when he noticed someone else was concentrating on Skye. A burly guy, almost out of place in the college student bar, but he would have fit in just right in the kind of bars the Winchesters usually visited. He was entirely too intent on Skye's ass as she leaned over the table.

Sam stiffened and cut a quick look at Dean. Dean was watching and saw it, too.

Instinctively, Sam psyched himself up for a brawl. That was just how the Winchesters rolled. Of course, Sam had never had chance to know what kind of boyfriend (much less husband) Dean would be, but given how protective Dean was of his father and brother, Sam could imagine this was going to get ugly.

Getting into a bar fight the first night his brother came to town would normally have pissed Sam off, but strangely Sam was not mad about it. This Dean that had shown up out of nowhere to have his brother with him when he got married was a mix of bits Sam knew from the old Dean and pieces of a new Dean that Sam knew he could cling to all too readily. It was Dean with stripes of _normal_ in his colors – the very thing Sam had wanted all his life. He was not angry at the idea of fighting, not to back up his brother while he defended his wife. That was such a blessedly _normal_ reason to get into a fight, and Sam was game.

The seedy-looking guy at the pool tables was inching his way toward the table where Skye and Jessica were playing. Jess finally noticed his approach and became acutely uncomfortable, now practically pressed back against the wall. She wasn't a fighter by nature and disliked confrontation. To Sam's secret relief, the guy seemed to be into brunettes and paid Jessica little mind.

Skye was still playing pool, heedless of the stalker coming up behind her.

Sam readied to leave their booth and go to the rescue, but Dean stopped him. Not with a hand or a word, but by sitting just where he was. Just watching and making no move to intervene.

"Dean?" Sam asked, confused and incredulous.

Dean's eyes never left the guy, razor-sharp like a predator, but he said softly, "Give her a minute."

That went against all Sam's instincts, all the training he'd had growing up to protect the helpless, but he was even better at following Dean's lead. He sat still by sheer force of will and watched.

The man was right behind Skye, and she could no longer fail to notice him. She seemed dismissive and bored at first, and when he didn't back away, she looked annoyed. Not once did she look afraid. She turned a cold shoulder to him and continued to play pool.

He wasn't interested in taking no for an answer. He pressed closer, leering, saying no telling what kind of lewd things.

Then his hand went to her back.

Sam flinched, ready for Dean to fly out of the booth. Dean did tighten, like a rattlesnake ready to strike, but he didn't get up... just watched.

Skye stood abruptly and whirled toward the bar-goer, a fist clocking him a vicious hook across the jaw in the process. The man staggered back, understandably shocked that such a delicate-looking woman would come up swinging. Then his surprise turned to indignation and embarrassment. He'd been decked by a _chick_, and he was just the type to take that personally. He straightened, rolled back his shoulders, and moved toward Skye again.

Sam held his breath, glanced at Dean, gaped at his brother still sitting and watching, then looked back toward the tables.

The man and Skye were toe to toe, Skye's back toward Sam so all he could see was the guy's face. He was furious, humiliated... and then suddenly his expression changed. A flicker of fear crossed his face, then he looked uncertain. After a few more seconds of the suddenly awkward standoff, he averted his eyes and backed off.

Sam stared openly at the defused scene, not really sure what had just happened. Jess was fidgeting nervously, looking nearly just as confused but edging toward Skye for safety. Skye deliberately set down the pool cue on the table, seeming more perturbed than anything. Jess said something to her, and Sam could tell from her body language his girlfriend was rattled. Skye shook her head calmly and gestured back toward the booth.

Beside Sam, Dean noticeably relaxed.

Both women returned to the table and sat down beside their respective men. Sam looked at Jessica in concern. She was flustered and shaken by the encounter and pressed herself close to his side for comfort. Skye just looked irritated, while Dean looked almost proud as he laid his arm lazily over the back of the seat behind Skye.

Sam touched Jess's back and asked gently, "You okay?"

Jessica shot him an accusing look. "You were watching? Why didn't you come over and help?"

"Uh, well, uh..." Sam trailed, not sure how to explain that he was taking his cue from Dean, just like he had growing up. Old habits died hard.

Dean saved him any awkward excuses. "You didn't need us." When Jess looked at Dean, astounded at his nonchalance, Dean smiled down at Skye. "I knew you could handle him, baby."

Skye smiled back, and for a brief moment Sam could swear her gaze looked almost feral.

Despite himself, Sam laughed. Of all the things that didn't make sense tonight, that was something that _did_. No surprise that Dean would find himself a woman who was a fighter and could take care of herself. Skye was so friendly and congenial that it was deceptive, but she was definitely a spitfire when push came to shove. _There_ was the hunter in her, whether Dean had molded it or honed it didn't really matter.

To Be Continued…


	5. Chapter 5

The barkeeper, who had clearly witnessed the whole thing, quietly tracked down the offending asshole and had a short conversation with him, at the end of which the man left the bar altogether. The bartender didn't say anything to Sam and his group, but he did leave a basket of chips on the table and mumbled, "no charge" as a way of thanking them for not letting the altercation get out of hand. Apparently Dean and Sam had had that look about them like they had been ready to jump into the middle of it with fists flying.

Another round of drinks and free chips wound them all down again.

Jessica sat a while in silence as the brothers talked about Sam's life at school; Sam knew she wasn't quite as comfortable with Dean and his wife as she was before… before she knew that they were entirely used to bar room fights and thought nothing of them when they happened. That was the complete opposite of Jess's personality. Sam knew Jessica well enough to know she wouldn't hold it against them – she wouldn't stop liking them just because of that – but she probably wouldn't be quick to agree to going to another bar with them again. It was probably just as well Jess have a healthy sense of caution when it came to anything Dean Winchester, anyway.

While Sam was just about to tell Dean about the law school position he had his eye on, Jessica gently caught Sam's attention. "Sam? I'm going to head home."

Sam looked at her. "Oh... okay. Dean, uh… I mean, Skye, could you take us home?"

Skye was nodding and shamelessly digging through Dean's jeans pocket for the keys when Jess interjected, "No, you stay. Catch up with your brother. I'll call a cab."

"You sure? I don't want you to be alone," Sam argued.

Jess smiled, and it was a bit self-deprecating, as if some distance from the attack that wasn't made her realize she'd been a real girl about it and over-reacted. It didn't bother Sam nearly as much as it did Jessica; he hadn't been looking for a hunter-type when he began dating her.

"I'm fine, really, but if I don't start studying for my Monday final, I won't be."

Sam could hardly believe he actually wanted to stay and spend time with Dean, but point in fact was that he did. And Jessica didn't look rattled anymore, just determined. Sam knew when to concede defeat with her.

"If you're sure you don't want me to go with you."

Jess kissed him and smiled. "Frankly, if you were there you'd only be a distraction."

Sam grinned.

Jessica turned her attention to Dean and Skye, sitting closely together. "Dean, Skye, it was really great to meet both of you. And congratulations!"

Dean smiled while Skye said, "It was great to meet you, too. Thanks for coming today."

"Are you kidding? I love weddings. If you hadn't let me come along, I would have stowed away in the trunk."

Dean laughed and Sam cut a look at him, knowing just why that was so funny. As if there would have been room for Jess in a trunk full of weapons.

"Dean, I hope you two will come by more often," Jessica said, laying down an open invitation.

Dean turned a quick look to Sam before saying, "I'll see what I can do about that."

Jess bid them all farewell and went to the bar to ask the barkeeper to call her a cab. It didn't take long before it arrived and Jessica was gone.

Immediately, Sam turned to his brother. "Okay… I have a few questions."

Dean's eyebrows merely rose. "You mean, now that your girlfriend's gone?" It wasn't accusation so much as a comment of complete understanding. Dean knew his brother far too well… always had.

Sam scowled.

Skye caught on fast. "She doesn't know?"

"No," Sam confirmed, "and she never will."

Skye looked up at Dean uncertainly, who only shrugged. Sam narrowed his eyes. "There's no reason she has to know anything about hunting. It doesn't mean anything, because that's not who I am anymore."

Dean sighed but didn't say what Sam knew he wanted to. Skye just looked contemplative and a little uneasy.

"Fine… on to the interrogation portion of the evening," Dean grumbled.

Sam drew back a little. "I didn't… I didn't mean…"

"Yeah, you never do… so, what's your first question?"

Sam felt like a heel, but he continued anyway, "How did you two meet?" Of course, they had told some safe and vague story when Jess asked, no doubt suspecting Sam had been keeping his hunting past from her.

Dean let his hand drop absently from its place on the back of the bench seat to Skye's shoulder. "I was in Skye's hometown working on a hunt. A… possession… kind of."

"Kind of?" Sam parroted.

"The guy was a friend of Skye's," Dean continued, ignoring Sam's question. Skye's eyes were downcast, her entire demeanor sunken. Sam sensed tragedy in this story immediately, and though he was hungry for details, in deference to Dean's wife, he didn't press for them. Dean traced his fingers soothingly over Skye's shoulder as he said, "that's how we met."

Sam opened his mouth, almost asked, then didn't. Instead, he went with, "How did you two end up hunting together?"

Dean smirked faintly. "After… just _after_, I hung around town for Skye." Skye began to smile gently and looked up at her newly-wed husband. Dean shrugged. "I was maybe a little taken."

Skye chuckled and almost blushed. Sam got the feeling 'taken' was really putting it mildly.

"But you know me," Dean continued, "time came for me to move on. I asked Skye to come with me."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Sam was baffled. "And you _went_ with him?" Sam asked Skye incredulously.

Skye laughed. "You act like you think it was the stupidest thing I could have done."

"Well, maybe… just…" Sam shook his head, "I know what it's like, being a hunter. It's not an easy life."

"No," she agreed, "but it's the life where I can be with Dean. That's worth it."

She was either crazy, madly in love, or a saint. Maybe all three. Sam mused aloud, "I guess I can see that… I mean, Dean was never going to settle and make a home."

"We have a home," Dean said casually.

"_What_?"

Dean seemed to find Sam's reaction amusing. "Skye has a house in Oregon… or rather, we do. That's where her family lives, a place called Eclipse River. We drop by when we can, stay a week or two, then we hit the road again."

Sam stared at Dean. Just stared. "Who _are_ you and what have you done with my brother?" Sam was almost serious.

Dean's eyes smiled, and that was all that saved Sam from going for a salt shaker. He remembered that light in Dean's eyes from their childhood. No demon or possessing spirit could pull off that look so flawlessly.

"Does your family know what Dean does?" Sam asked Skye, feeling like he was completely in the twilight zone.

Skye nodded. "They took a while to warm up to him, but when they realized I wasn't going to leave him," she shrugged with a smile, "they came around."

"They're actually really great people," Dean said earnestly. "I mean, to take in a stray like me and let me leave town with their only daughter…" Dean shook his head, looking just as astounded as anyone, "but they're awesome about it." A glint appeared in Dean's eye. "In fact, last time we were in town, Mom sent us off with this _huge_… Sam?"

Sam didn't hear a word after 'Mom', his brain and several other vital organs seemingly going haywire. His breath was caught in his chest and his heart was racing wildly. He had never heard Dean use that word without the sound of an ugly scab ripped open anew in his voice. It was taboo his entire childhood for Sam to so much as talk about their mom; Sam had experienced the backlash of letting slip the word so often that now, despite the fact Jessica's mother tried her best, he could not call another woman 'Mom'. Growing up, Dean had choked on the word every time he said it. Wrapped it in love, pain, and loss every time he uttered the sounds. To hear him suddenly say it so easily, to say 'Mom' like it wasn't the same as speaking the name of death, was earth-shattering.

"Sam… you okay?" Dean leaned forward, caretaker big brother kicking in as he saw Sam gasping.

Sam nodded stiltedly. "You… you said…" He looked up and saw worry and question in Dean's eyes. Dean didn't even know what he'd done.

Sam swallowed and offered a brittle smile. "You said '_Mom'_."

Understanding flashed through Dean's eyes and he looked first sad, then he nodded in surprising contentment. "Yeah…" he smirked wryly, "sort of the deal I struck with Jaina to run off with Skye without it turning into a firefight. I wasn't stealing her, I was joining the family." He shrugged, like it was so little when it was really so much. "Jaina and Ramon figured that if they were Mom and Dad, then we'd come back… you know, still think of Eclipse River as home."

Sam didn't know what he thought of Dean calling anyone but John Winchester 'Dad', but he would think about that later.

"Is it?" Sam asked. "Home?"

At length, Dean nodded. "Yeah, it is."

Sam felt like his whole world was on its head. "I don't know what to say… I would never, in a million years, expect any of this from you."

Dean wrapped his arm around Skye. "Guess I just had to find the chick who could keep up with me."

Because that's what it was… Dean had not abandoned who he was for a life with Skye. They had a home, yes, but Sam also knew they hunted together. Spent more time on the road than at their house in Oregon.

Sam looked down at Skye, puzzled. She looked questioningly at him.

"We were indoctrinated into this – from infancy, in my case – but why would _you_ choose this life? Hunting, I mean."

Skye grew thoughtful a moment and considered her answer before speaking. "Because we do good work. We help a lot of people… this job needs to be done by someone." Skye leaned fractionally into Dean's side. "Dean is good at what he does, and I know he loves it. I wouldn't ask him to give that up, it would change who he is, and I love who he is.

"Before, I never did anything that really mattered. Not to anyone more than the people closest to me. I like doing something important. Saving people. It's the good fight."

Sam gaped a moment, truly amazed, then he looked toward Dean. "I never would have believed she existed, but you _actually_ found the perfect girl for you."

Dean smiled. "Don't I know it."

To Be Continued…


	6. Chapter 6

Time seemed to disappear as the night wore on, and Sam wasn't ready for it to end. He hadn't let himself acknowledge it – had clung to the memory of the hostile parting to keep him on his path – but Sam had missed his brother. A lot. Dean had been so little of what Sam had been fleeing when he walked out to go to Stanford two years ago. Breaking from Dean had been unintended but unavoidable. They had been divided by their very different feelings toward John.

But as he sat there in the bar catching up with his brother, he discovered that Dean had not been completely on board with John's ultimatum to Sam as Sam had somehow always believed he had been. That, in fact, Dean had been furious at John for telling Sam he couldn't come back… that he'd taken off to hunt solo pretty much the day after Sam walked out. That Skye met Dean Winchester as a man lost for the first time in his life without family.

Sam stopped trying to see the possible signs of deception in Dean and Skye together. He stopped _wanting_ to find it. He observed keenly, as he always had, and he saw that Skye made Dean happier than Sam had ever seen his brother.

As for Skye… Sam liked her. Besides her knack for making Dean smile like a love-struck teenager when he thought no one was looking, she was actually a sharp, quick-witted person. Perhaps a little more barbed than was to Sam's tastes, but it fit perfectly with Dean's.

There was something unique about her that Sam couldn't quite define or explain, but her love for Dean seemed true and just as intense as Dean's love for her. Sam was a romantic at heart, because he thought that was all that mattered.

At one point, Skye slid out of the booth and mentioned spotting an 'easy mark' near the tables just begging to be parted from his money. She threw Sam a wink then walked off, giving Sam the impression Skye was mostly making herself scarce so the brothers so long estranged could have some time alone.

"I like her," Sam stated when Skye was gone.

"Good," was Dean's succinct answer.

Sam snorted. "I'm glad you came… I know I acted like I didn't want to see you…"

Dean pressed his lips together. "Don't sweat it. I mean, did it suck ass? Yeah, but… well, you had to do your thing, or whatever…" Dean shrugged. "I left you alone, too," Dean added, as if to say 'see what I did for you?' Dean looked up, first toward Skye at the pool table, then over at Sam. "Actually… I would have stayed gone longer, but… Skye talked me into coming to see you."

"Really?"

"Yeah… I was going to give you your space, let you be all _normal,_ or pretend to be, but Skye… thing is, she's real family-oriented. She didn't think it was right I shouldn't see you." Dean's voice lowered. "And she could tell that I wanted to."

Sam smiled. "Well, I'm glad she did. You know, like Jess said, if you two want to stop by more often… that'd be okay."

Dean's entire presence lifted. "Count on it, Sammy."

"And hey," Sam piped up, "maybe Jess and I can come see you at your place."

Dean sat, expressionless, then burst out laughing. Sam, startled, just blinked.

After catching his breath, Dean shook his head, "Dude, are you _hearing_ us? We're talking about visiting each other, houses and spouses and the whole apple pie nine… how twisted is that?"

Sam chuckled. "Very anti-Winchester… but don't worry, Dean, as long as you're still hunting, you never have to worry about being considered _normal_."

Dean quirked a strange smile at his brother. "Wouldn't be normal even without the hunt."

"No argument here," Sam agreed, though somehow it felt like they were talking about slightly different things.

The two brothers settled into a comfortable silence while Skye sunk another shot (to the college kid's ever-paling complexion).

Things were almost perfect, which might have been why the hairs on the back of Sam's neck started to stand up seconds before the bar's lights flickered. Just once. No reason to think it was anything but a breaker on the fritz, but three people in that bar were trained to never take such a thing lightly. Sam and Dean froze, like pointer dogs in the brush who'd spotted quail, and Skye jerked upright and looked toward the ceiling.

The lights did not waiver again, but still…

Sam turned and pulled down the blinds on the window to peek outside. The day had been a perfect, cloudless California day, and the night was forecasted to be the same. Sam peered into the darkness, watching, waiting…

A jagged bolt of lightning spit from a single storm cloud in an otherwise perfect night sky.

Sam pulled back and met Dean's eyes. Dean was thinking all the same things.

"Were you guys tracking something here before you detoured to my place?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head, clearly thinking a mile a minute.

Skye joined them and leaned over the table to whisper, "Felt like a flyby to you?"

"Yeah, it did," Dean agreed grimly, "but a flyby to where?"

It was all due to paranoia that made Sam fish his cell phone from his pocket and dial Jess's number.

It went straight to voicemail.

"Damn," he cursed.

"Sam?"

"I can't reach Jess."

Dean and Skye looked at one another intently.

"I didn't really expect to," Sam added quickly, hoping he was wrong (even though everything in his gut was screaming). "She turns off her phone when she's studying… too easily distracted, she says."

"Did you try the apartment phone?" Skye asked.

"We don't have one, just our cells." Sam looked over at Dean. "Could be nothing, but could we…?"

Dean was already climbing out of the booth and handing off his keys to Skye. "Let's go."

Sam all but scrambled out of the seat, threw down a wad of cash for their bill, and hurried out into the parking lot with Dean and Skye. The freak storm cloud was already gone, moved on somewhere else. Sam dreaded to think which direction it had gone.

Dean got in the passenger's side while Skye slid behind the wheel. Sam, feeling like he was four again, piled in the back. Skye backed out of the parking space and peeled out in the direction of Stanford.

Sam tried to tell himself he was getting worried over nothing, tried to make his knee stop bobbing up and down spastically on the whole drive. Dean and Skye were focused, their energy deadly and dangerous. If Sam had doubted Skye being a hunter before, her intensity now dispelled his doubts. Sam wished he could slip back into that mental place, but this was _Jess_. He couldn't detach himself from that very scary fact.

She had to be okay. This day had been so perfect… he didn't want to have to pay the price for that.

Skye jerked into a parking spot outside the apartment building where Sam lived with Jessica. The car had barely rocked to a stop when Sam threw open the door and jogged across the parking lot. He had a vague sense of Dean and Skye hot on his heels, but he couldn't think of anything but seeing Jessica. He wanted nothing more than to explode into the apartment in a panic, find Jess sitting quietly on the couch, and feel like a complete idiot for freaking out.

He would _love_ to look like a fool over this.

Sam unlocked the apartment door quickly and threw open the door. His eyes dropped immediately to the couch. Jess's books were out, a glass of water sat on the end table, and the old blanket Jess's mother have given her was balled up on the armrest. But Jessica wasn't there.

"Jess?" Sam called out.

Dean and Skye pushed their way into the apartment after Sam and fanned out, hurrying to check the place.

Sam strode toward the kitchen area… there was a pantry tucked away in the back of the kitchen, you couldn't see it from the door, maybe she'd gone for snack…

"_DEAN_!" Skye screamed.

Sam turned on a dime and bolted toward the bedroom.

He barreled his way in almost at the same second Dean did. They both jerked to a stop at the sight before them. It was unnatural and yet far from new to the Winchesters.

Jessica was pinned to the ceiling. Her eyes were open, her mouth gaping, but there was no sound. Her stomach was dripping blood down like rain.

Skye was standing on the bed, reaching up toward Jessica. She just grabbed a hand full of Jess's shirt when suddenly flames erupted, seemingly from Jessica herself.

"NO!" Sam yelled, surging forward.

Skye yelped when the fire licked across her hand. She jerked back, burned.

"Skye!" Dean bellowed, racing forward and yanking Skye off the bed.

Sam was climbing on it. The flames were billowing out, blanketing the ceiling, swallowing Jess as she stared and burned.

Sam tried to grab hold of her, but there seemed to be nothing but fire. The heat seared his skin, burned in his lungs, brought tears to his eyes. And still he tried to grab her.

"Jess… _Jess_!"

The fire began to bulge outward, lapping at the walls and filling the room with an unbearable heat.

"_JESS_!" Sam cried.

Then Dean was grabbing him around the waist, hauling him physically off the bed.

"NO!" Sam struggled against Dean's grip. The apartment complex fire alarms were screeching in the background. Jess was completely consumed in fire.

Sam lunged for her.

"Sam!" Dean barked, shoving his brother toward the door. "We gotta go!"

"Jess!"

"_OUT_!" Dean growled, and Sam had three inches and a good forty pounds on Dean, but Dean was winning anyway, manhandling him out of the bedroom, then out of the apartment.

Sam was trapped in the fire with Jess, it was all he could see and hear, so he was surprised to look up and realize that he was outside, in the parking lot with Dean and Skye on either side of him, watching the whole complex go up in flames. Other tenants were standing around in pajamas, watching wide-eyed as their homes went up in smoke.

The fire department showed up, but it was all too little too late. Sam stood numbly, unable to shake the image of Jess on the ceiling, pinned and bleeding.

"Let me see that," Sam heard Dean's voice distantly as Dean took Skye's burned hand in his.

"Mine's not bad," she insisted softly, "check Sam's."

Dean took Sam's blistered hands, examining them gently. Sam assumed they must hurt, but he didn't feel it. He couldn't take his eyes from the angry fire where his life used to be. Just a couple of hours ago… it had gone from perfect to ruined in so short a time.

A paramedic eventually came up to them, asking if they needed help. Sam jerked away and moved to the back of the Impala. The last thing Sam wanted to do was deal with people. Dean fielded the questions and sent the guy away… Winchesters knew how to tend their own wounds.

They stood there and watched until the fire was brought under control and the rescue team went in to look for survivors.

When the firefighters started to come out of the building, Sam strode forward and waited… hoping… _praying_…

They didn't bring anyone with them. No Jess.

Sam felt like crashing to the pavement. His head swam and his ears buzzed. This wasn't supposed to happen… he was _normal_ now. He'd left this behind for good. It wasn't fair. Jess didn't deserve to die for Sam's twisted family legacy.

Sam couldn't fathom moving, but he knew all too well what happened next in a disaster like these. Investigators would start asking questions. He couldn't be there for that. Time to go.

Sam turned and caught sight of Dean and Skye. They were standing together, Dean's arms around Skye and her head tucked underneath his chin, but their expressions were one hundred percent hunter – lethal. Their eyes were intent on the building. In the light of the last lingering flames wreathing the building, their eyes looked almost gold.

Sam walked back to them as if in a dream. A nightmare.

He stopped before them, met their gazes in turn, and said, "We've got work to do."

As hunters, they understood. Without a word, without question, they turned to get in the car. Dean took the wheel as the only person without wounded hands. Skye rounded the car and took the front passenger's seat. Sam practically fell into the back seat.

While everyone at the scene was just beginning to get their wits about them, the Winchesters were heading out into the night. On the hunt for the thing that had killed Mary Winchester. And Jessica.

No one spoke. Dean didn't turn on any music. The car was deathly quiet but for the hum of tires on asphalt. The windows were rolled down to try and air out the smell of smoke and ash.

Sam didn't sleep, not exactly, but he lay down across the bench seat and found himself fading in and out of a strange fugue. He was aware at times, others just lingering in some state in between waking and not.

Once, when he was more or less aware, he saw Dean and Skye in the front seat. Skye had slid across the distance to sit with her side pressed to Dean. Dean's right arm was around her, holding her close.

They must have thought Sam was unconscious.

"Will he be okay?" Skye asked in a worried whisper.

Dean didn't answer right away. "I don't know. You don't ever get over _that_." Dean was the voice of experience there. He remembered Mary. He remembered the fire twenty-two years ago.

Another thick silence filled the car.

"I can't imagine if I lost you," Dean croaked softly to Skye as he held her tightly.

Skye simply rested her head on his shoulder.

Sam's stomach knotted. He buried his face in the seat, tried to hold back a sob, and fisted his painful, burned hands.

He wouldn't let Jessica's killer get away with murdering her. It wanted a fight, it had it… and now with the full fury of all the Winchesters against it.

Just like that, Sam Winchester was once again what he had been raised to be.

A hunter.

END


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